


Time and time again

by sunofthemoon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Swan Queen Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunofthemoon/pseuds/sunofthemoon
Summary: To have a soulmate is to be blessed, and Emma has been abundantly gifted with a soulmate who complements her so beautifully, that she loathes the thought of not loving him. Wrapped in an endless need to please her parents, Emma stays with Neal and her son Henry, until the Assistant District Attorney, Regina Mills, swoops in with her clever words and smouldering gazes. When her world is turned upside down, Emma wonders whether this is the right side up after all.Written for Swan Queen Week 11: Soulmates / day 1: F**K Destiny, I choose you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very late contribution to Swan Queen week 2k18: Soulmates. I didn't want to post without having everything written first, so there's that.
> 
> A few notes on the story & the way I write:  
> \- I demarcate spaces between time jumps with ::: and spaces between _scenes_ in the same time frame with ...  
>  \- There are implications of homophobia, although very subtle in Mary Margaret's actions & words.  
> \- I have no knowledge of law or police work, and I've moved away from that aspect of the story & focused instead on Emma's self-discovery & her relationships instead.
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this story, and I hope you enjoy! I will be updating this every two days until its completion.

The concept of soulmates is something revered, highly treasured, and a blessing that is not supposed to be a curse. Emma has found her soulmate, and she’s been pushed toward the boy with roughish eyes and an easy charm that her parents still adore to this day.

 

Mary Margaret and David Nolan have told their love story a thousand times over family dinner, her father cutting into roast chicken, and her mother pouring too much wine into Emma’s glass. They speak of their first meeting, of how Mary Margaret had been a regular at a local diner in their hometown, and how David used to come in at exactly the same time everyday. Like clockwork, their eyes would pick up and their coffees would be handed to them at the same time, and there was a certain pull that they had denied until they couldn’t any longer.

 

Emma mouths the words as she listens, allows her hand to be cradled by Neal’s as she tries to find steadiness in the familiarity of her soulmate. It’s a fickle concept, if Emma has to voice her opinion, but after experiencing it with Neal during her years as a rebellious teen, Emma has been transformed into a believer for the concept— not so much the idea of what comes next.

 

“I wonder what I’ll be doing when I meet my soulmate,” Henry asks, putting a piece of chicken in his mouth, chewing daintily like his grandmother who looks on at him fondly.

 

“Probably something exciting,” she tells him, her eyes widening and voice taking on a lighter tone. Mary Margaret loves Henry entirely too much, and Emma is grateful that she can hand her son over to her mother when she feels suffocated by the responsibilities of being a parent.

 

“Like riding a motorbike?!” David coughs at that, reaching for the glass of water Mary Margaret pushes toward him.

 

Emma had let Neal take Henry around the city for a ride on his friend’s motorbike, and he’s been obsessed with them ever since.

 

“Like riding a motorbike,” Neal tells Henry, “or stealing one,” he whispers in Emma’s ear, and she slaps his arm as he chuckles.

 

Emma had been eighteen and looking for an adventure when she met Neal, and he had been a runaway looking for a quick buck in the backend alley of a few restaurants. They had met trying to steal the same car, and Emma had given Neal enough attitude to walk away with a flip of her golden hair. The next day they had met trying to steal a different car, and the day after that, and after that, until Neal had laughed with a crowbar in his hand and an easy smile on his lips that had uttered the word _Soulmate._

 

Emma had denied it, but she hadn’t seen Neal thereafter, the spell of the soulmates broken with the realisation of it. Only when she had come to the terms that someone was made for her, almost two years later in the middle of her college years studying criminology, had she met Neal again, a teaching assistant for a primary school that had come into college for a short course in sociology. Now, six years later with a four year old son and a commitment to be together forever, Emma is supposed to be happy—only she isn’t.

 

They’re washing the last of the dinner dishes when Mary Margaret picks up on her dull mood, and Emma wipes plates to stack them on the counter without meeting her mother’s eyes. “Something the matter?” Mary Margaret asks, handing Emma another plate that she dries and then places atop the stack, throwing the dishtowel on the counter to heave up the heavy pile of crockery to put it away in the cupboard all at once.

 

Mary Margaret shakes her head at her daughter, watching as she carries too much, allows it to pile up until she’s staggering under its weight, unable to deal with whatever she’s stowed away for later until something or the other breaks. This time, Emma manages to safely transport the plates, but Mary Margaret is far more concerned with the frown lines around Emma’s mouth and lack of shine to her hair that eerily resembles the look Emma had before she ran away from home.

 

“Everything is fine,” Emma answers with a small smile, her voice too soft, and her shoulders slouching too much. Something is wrong, and Mary Margaret finds herself ill-equipped to deal with the tumultuous emotions Emma experiences. This is why she adores Henry, and she’s a bad mother for thinking such things, but he’s so much easier as a child than Emma had been, and his view of the world hinges on the vast imagination that Neal encourages. Emma had come out of the womb angry, and it’s David who soothes their daughter when Mary Margaret sees too much of herself in her.

 

Their short conversation is ended when the last glass is dried and put away, leftovers pushed into containers and split between the two homes. Neal is more than gracious with his compliments, and Henry imitates his stance when he tells Mary Margaret how delicious that chicken was. It’s easy for her laugh and kiss his face, but harder for her to watch how Emma dulls even more at the interaction.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Emma asks her father, and David nods his head in the affirmative before kissing his daughter’s forehead.

 

“I’ll be late,” he warns her, “this case with Jones is going in for internal investigation and they’re doing interviews in the morning.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Emma argues, walking to the door with David’s hand on her back, Neal and Henry already buckled into the car from where she can see them.

 

“Emma,” David soothes, his voice deep and familiar, “I’ll be fine.” Emma sighs in defeat but allows herself to be hugged, her eyes closing against the sharp cologne that hasn’t changed since she can remember. When she releases him, Emma doesn’t say goodbye, she doesn’t have the energy to.

 

:::

 

It’s been a few hours since internal investigations have begun, and Emma starts the day by getting all her outstanding paperwork out of the way. She’s not on patrol duty until after lunch, and she hopes she will get to see her father before she has to leave.

 

Emma has been a police officer for just under three years now, working her way into the field armed with a degree and a stellar reputation of the Nolan name from her father. She isn’t oblivious to the fact that she might’ve only gotten a job because of David, that juvenile record a glaring red dot on her otherwise immaculate background. She’s only lucky that society has changed enough to see her having a child out of wedlock as none of their business—and sitting for her final exams as a senior year college student with a rounded belly had earned her more than enough stares; but Henry is a blessing in disguise that Emma can push in her mother’s face when she becomes a tad bit overbearing.

 

“Coffee, Nolan?” Graham asks, setting down a cup of coffee on her desk regardless.

 

Emma takes a sip of the beverage, made with just the right amount of sugar, and the right amount of milk. “You’re too good to me.”

 

Graham laughs that boyish laugh of his, and Emma leans back in her chair to distance herself from paperwork that’s making her eyes burn. “Not good enough,” he teases, winking at her when she balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head. It bounces off, and Graham hits it with his shoulder so that it falls into the wastepaper basket by Emma’s desk.

 

“Impressive.” Emma and Graham straighten up, postures becoming rigid and their smiles dropping at the sound of the devil herself. “I’d say this looks more like a basketball court than a police station. You’ve really outdone yourselves this time.”

 

Emma growls low in her throat and Graham places a warning hand on her shoulder to stay seated. Today isn’t the day to piss off the assistant district attorney, not when she’s handling the case her father is being investigated for. “You’re welcome to join in the game if you’d like,” Graham says with a smile, his Irish accent thicker and his charm going from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds.

 

ADA Regina Mills holds his gaze for a hot second, her gaze then shifting to Emma for a moment where Emma sits with a clenched jaw and narrowed gaze. There’s something about Regina that grates on her nerves, and whether it’s the fact that this woman always has a stick up her ass, or was born to be mean to everyone without an easy charm and full beard, Emma doesn’t really care—although Regina definitely has a type.

 

“I’ll pass,” Regina says slowly, her eyes still on Emma and her grip on the files she carries tightening. She doesn’t bother to say anything else, and the click of her heels as she walks further away from them and into the interrogation room helps Emma relax.

 

“Bitch,” Emma mutters under her breath, her cheeks hot and her palms clammy.

 

“A hot bitch,” Graham agrees, one eyebrow raising in question until Emma reluctantly nods her head in agreement. The only thing Regina has going for her anyways, is the way those pencil skirts fit around her very toned behind—not that Emma looks there specifically, but because it’s very hard to miss regardless.

 

Graham takes his leave shortly thereafter, and Emma finishes her scalding hot coffee to have something to do with her hands. They’ve been inside for far too long, and it’s creeping toward one o’ clock where she’ll have to eat her lunch in the squad car.

 

“Emma Nolan?” Emma’s head snaps up at the call of her name, and she swallows down the lump in her throat that has formed there with the very real possibility of David getting persecuted for something he didn’t do. Twitchy fingers reach into her desk to retrieve a peanut butter sandwich, and she scarfs one slice down that she washes away with water before standing up to follow orders. This can’t be good.

 

“These are just routine questions,” District Attorney Albert Spencer says, his cold smile not very reassuring when the only other people in the room is Captain Gold, and ADA Mills. Emma nods regardless, fingers twisting within each other as she wills her heartbeat to slow down to normal.

 

They ask her things about herself, things that are to be written down on a questionnaire, and not wasting the voice recorder’s time with it. “Are you aware of any unusual behaviour Detective Nolan has been displaying recently?” Ah, and now they get into the crux of the matter after trying to make her more comfortable, and failing spectacularly it seems.

 

“No,” Emma answers honestly, keeping her voice short and clipped. Seated in front of her, Regina smirks with her eyes as she writes the response down.

 

“Has Detective Nolan announced any surge of income, an inheritance, or been displaying unhealthy spending habits?” Emma narrows her eyes at this, a disbelieving smile on her face before she can school her expression back into a mask of professionalism.

 

“No, Detective Nolan hasn’t come into any money that I know of, and he hasn’t been displaying unusual spending habits.” In fact, her father’s spending routine consists of paying for the essential things, and then handing over the rest of the money to Mary Margaret who manages it from a joint account. There hasn’t even been plans for a holiday as far as she knows. Her parents are very set in their routine, and other than the yearly trip overseas that’s booked months in advance, they don’t do anything else that’s extravagant.

 

Captain Gold nods at DA Spencer to dismiss Emma, but before she can scrape back the metal chair, ADA Mills pins her down with a stern look that has a snarl automatically curl over Emma’s lips. “We will need to look into your bank records, Officer Nolan,” Regina says, voice casual and smooth like she’s the smartest person in the room. “This is a sensitive issue and we have to cover all our bases.” DA Spencer coughs from beside her, but ADA Mills sits with a straight-backed posture and sin on her lips.

 

“Fine,” Emma agrees, staring down Regina with a heated glare, “I have nothing to hide.”

 

When Emma gets up to leave, DA Spencer and Captain Gold walking in front of her, ADA Mills stops her at the exit of the interrogation room, lithe fingers brushing across her chest where bread crumbs fall from Emma’s uniform. “Pathetic,” Regina hisses, her words sharp and cold, but her actions leave Emma stunned as Regina walks away with an extra sway to her hips.

 

:::

 

“I just don’t get why you hate her is all,” Graham says a few days later, Emma chewing on a bearclaw and sipping from the strawberry smoothie Neal had made for her that morning.

 

“Because,” Emma stresses, her voice too close to a whine, “she’s just—she’s just, ugh!”

 

“I agree,” Graham teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her that might suggest he isn’t thinking about Regina in the same way she is.

 

“You need to do something about that crush of yours. If Regina is irritating, then you’re near unbearable with the way you act around her.” Graham snags her smootie and Emma reaches for it, hitting her elbow against the handbrake of the squad car as she does so.

 

“That’s what you get for being mean.” And Graham is as childish as Henry when he sips from her smoothie and chuckles in glee as Emma rubs at her elbow. She’s known Graham since she entered the station as a rookie, and he had immediately taken her under his wing. It had been good fortune that Emma had been paired with an officer who was easy to talk to, someone she could ask stupid questions, and not be judged for wanting to know the _why_ of things.

 

“Seriously, you should just man up and ask her out so I don’t have to suffer through this any longer.” Finishing off her bearclaw, Emma crumples the paper bag into a ball and shoves it into the pocket of the passenger seat. They’ll have to clean out the car before their next patrol, because pretty soon there won’t be space for Emma to sit, and she’s confident enough that Graham will leave her behind just so that he doesn’t have to do some dirty work.

 

“I’ll man up when _you_ man up,” Graham says, leaving her to ponder whether the statement is made in jest, or for something else entirely when he answers a call for a domestic disturbance that’s close to where they are.

 

:::

 

Friday rolls around with the weight of the week still fresh on her shoulders, and Emma has been piled with paperwork that doesn’t seem to end no matter how many files she sends out. David and Killian have both been absent since the internal investigation began, and the looks she gets for being the daughter of a potential dirty cop has her quieter than usual. It’s also probably why she doesn’t jump at the sound of ADA Mills voice floating through the station.

 

“Well, I have whatever I need,” Emma hears Regina say, and she clenches her hands into a fist when Graham automatically stands up at the sound of her voice. “…no, I’ll get it myself… thank you, Captain.”

 

The ominous clicking of heels comes closer, and Emma prays that this time Regina moves to any other desk but hers—Regina only seems to gravitate here, taking the long route to the interrogation rooms that Graham absolutely picks up on, blaming it on his charm that ADA Mills simply cannot resist.  Unfortunately, Emma’s prayers do not work, and Regina’s black pumps stop right in front of Emma’s desk, her nude painted fingernails resting lightly at the edge of dark wood. “Officer Nolan,” Regina greets, and Emma picks her head up from where she’s been pretending to fill in paperwork, a bored expression on her face.

 

“ADA Mills,” she greets just as coolly, and she swears she sees a hint of a smirk on Regina’s lips.

 

“You have a file I need for an upcoming case, a Mr B. Sanchez, file number 5491, theft.” Emma shifts back in her chair and pushes it toward her drawers, the meticulously labelled files coming into view as she opens the appropriate drawer, searching for a case that’s beneath Regina to argue for, not when she has other attorneys who can handle something that Emma thinks is at rookie level at best. Pulling out the file, Emma stands to hand the manila folder to Regina, hands brushing as Regina’s fingers slide against hers with unnecessary touch.

 

Graham clears his throat beside them, and Regina startles just a little before pulling the file out of Emma’s hands abruptly, tucking the folder beneath her arm. “If that’s all?”

 

“That will be all,” Regina dismisses, turning to walk away.

 

“Uh, Regina,” Graham starts, and Emma picks her head up at him in surprise. If he’s going to do what she thinks he’s going to do, then this moment is a little too private for her to belong to. Still, Emma also doesn’t want to miss out, and tries to make herself as small and invisible as possible.

 

“Officer Humbert,” Regina acknowledges him for the first time since her arrival, and Graham seems to melt at the way she says his name—which in Emma’s opinion is a little flat if she says so herself.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like to… go out sometime, maybe?” Emma wants to smack him across the back of the head, because for all his charm and smooth talking, he has certainly left his game at home this time.

 

Regina smiles genially at him, hands holding the folder in front of her like a shield. “I have a soulmate,” she says, and Graham’s face falls just as Emma’s takes on an expression of shock. Regina’s gaze slides from Graham’s face to Emma’s, holding it there with an intensity that’s a little more than usual. “Officer Nolan.” And then Regina shifts and walks away, heels clicking against the floor as she exits the station without another word.

 

Emma sits in her seat confused, pen grasped too tightly in her hold as she replays the conversation over and over again. Regina has a soulmate? Regina, the ice bitch, has someone who actually likes her? And… the way she said Emma’s name, Emma isn’t sure if it was Regina’s usual way of dismissal, or whether she had been announcing Emma as her soulmate.

 

“Did you...”

 

“Yeah,” Graham agrees, and Emma slouches in her seat at the fact that she isn’t going mad. So Graham noticed Regina’s last words too, and obviously they aren’t soulmates, because having a soulmate means meeting them doing exactly the same thing as you, every single day, until one of you realises what the actual hell is happening—all her meetings with Regina have been with them doing completely opposite things, and with vast times between each one.

 

“She rejected me—I went after a girl who has a soulmate.” And Emma’s still alone in this.

 

Patting Graham’s back as he sits next to her, Emma sighs out in relief over Graham’s crush finally being put to rest.

 

:::

 

It’s family dinner again this week, and it’s Emma’s turn to host. Neal flutters between helping Emma cook and keeping Henry occupied, and in it’s in these moments that she’s grateful for him. Their relationship might’ve started out a little rough, but when they found each other again, they certainly made the best of it in whatever way they could. Emma had committed herself to Neal to keep her parents happy, and one drunken night testing the universe had amounted to the child she adores with all her heart, but still can’t connect to no matter how hard she tries.

 

Tonight is also the first time she’ll see her father again after the internal investigations have begun, and she’s not ready to hear him give her bad news just yet. Emma has gotten used to having her father around, reminding her to eat when she’s busy with something, or offering to take her out on a ride along like she’s a little kid again with stars in her eyes. Tonight might just eliminate all of that, and she’s not emotionally stable enough to handle it.

 

In the distance, the doorbell rings, and Emma washes up lettuce for a salad only her mother will eat. “I’ll get it!” Neal yells from inside the house, leaving Emma to move around the kitchen with Henry watching her from the doorway, the chatter of his grandparents not enough to make him move.

 

“Do you want to help me make the salad?” Emma asks the boy, and he nods slowly as if any sudden movements might change Emma’s mind. She can’t help that she isn’t the fun parent, or the most present one. Neal is a preschool teacher who spends all day with him, finger-painting and making sock puppets, and he brings Henry home where he takes care of him until Emma’s shift is over at the station. By the time she gets home, Henry is already in bed, and it’s only during stolen moments like these does Henry get to spend any time with her.

 

Wiping her hands dry, Emma reaches down to pull Henry onto the kitchen counter, grabbing whatever ingredients she needs to set it within reach of her son. They work silently, Emma making the dressing as Henry places each lettuce and carrot piece into the bowl with precision that shouldn’t belong to a four year old, but when Emma gives him a taste of the dressing, he’s fussy enough to stick his tongue out in distaste.

 

“Oh yeah? Think you can make a better dressing?” She teases him, tickling his sides until he squeals with laughter, the sound drowning out a second doorbell that they both ignore.

 

“Salt,” Henry says, reaching for the saltshaker as she sits on Emma’s hip, turning it a few times until he mixes the dressing with a spoon and hands a bit for Emma to taste on his finger. Emma licks a bit of the dressing, Henry putting the rest in his own mouth as they make identical expressions of concentration.

 

“Better,” Emma says.

 

“Good,” Henry nods, as if he’s achieved something great, and then throttles Emma with a hug that she returns. It’s because of him that she stays, because of her parents who want too much from her, but insist they want nothing at all. This is as much as she can give everyone without being entirely selfish—and destiny picks the path you’re supposed to walk on, yes? Who is she to step aside and rebuke the gift of a soulmate?

 

“You’re in good spirits,” Emma hears, and her blood runs cold.

 

“ADA Mills,” she greets, feeling underdressed in her jeans and t-shirt, Regina standing in her home with stilettoes and a borderline inappropriate black dress.

 

“Your father insisted we meet here, I hope it isn’t too much trouble.” Of course it’s trouble! This is Emma’s household, and there’s something about inviting someone you don’t like into their home that crosses all sorts of lines.

 

“Regina!” David exclaims, a smile on his face, “you made it.”

 

Regina’s eyes flicker from David to Emma, then to the boy she holds on her hip that looks too much like her. “Indeed.”

 

“Regina has some good news for us—”

 

“If this is about the case, then this is very unprofessional.” Emma manages to make her voice sound stern, and Regina’s eyes darken at the low tone of it. Something is seriously up with ADA Mills, and Emma has a façade she has to keep up with instead of worry about a woman who makes her feel uneasy.

 

“Regina is also a family friend,” Mary Margaret cuts in, her tone leaving no room for arguments. They’ve raised Emma better than to misbehave with guests, but then again, this is the same Emma who ran away to find herself. Thankfully that phase hadn’t lasted long with destiny pushing Neal in her path.

 

“Well the food is getting cold, Regina, you’re welcome to join us.” Neal places his hand at the small of Emma’s back, possessive in his easy stance and friendly words that Regina stands up straighter at.

 

“I shouldn’t—”

 

“We insist,” Emma cuts in, jaw tense and her entire family pushing her in a corner. She can handle Regina for one measly dinner and then never see her again until the next big case.

 

Emma lays out another place setting for Regina next to Henry, and Mary Margaret entertains everyone by asking Regina questions about the Mills family that seem too personal for Emma to tune into— yet she still does, catching pieces of gossip that doesn’t actually seem very interesting at all. Emma doesn’t want to know that Regina’s mother is pursuing an article in 3D printing of human organs, and she also doesn’t want to know that Regina’s father is doing as well as usual with his tailor business. What Emma wants to know is who Regina’s soulmate is— but Mary Margaret doesn’t ask after it, and Regina doesn’t say anything on the matter either.

 

When Emma brings out the lasagne, setting it down on the table where everyone hums at the aroma, only one person looks at the cook with a quirk of her eyebrow and her cutlery at the ready. Emma is more than happy to step up to the challenge.

 

…

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Regina says, chewing on the piece of lasagne she swallows slowly.

 

Neal, sensing a bit of hostility, throws Emma a charming smile and shovels a forkful of lasagne into his mouth. “Tastes great, babe,” he says around a mouthful of food, and Regina’s nose wrinkles in distaste. The entire table chimes in, but Regina remains silent, sipping from her glass of water as Emma stares holes into her head.

 

“What’s wrong?” Emma asks again, because there’s no Graham here to hold her shoulder and tell her to be quiet, and they’re in her domain where she’s pretty sure she can be as rude as she wants.

 

“It’s just missing something is all,” Regina says casually, and Emma’s face grows red with the exertion of keeping her comments to herself. “Could use a bit of kick—I find red pepper flakes to do the trick.”

 

“Red pepper flakes?” Henry inquires, and the half insult already formed on Emma’s tongue is swallowed down with a wash of water. Regina’s entire demeanour changes when she glances down at Henry, her face softening and her rigid posture becoming soft.

 

“It’s a spice,” Regina tells him, and Emma watches carefully as Henry begins to chew Regina’s ear off about every spice under the sun and how he helped make the salad dressing. Regina eats more salad then necessary, telling Henry what a great palate he has, which launches an entirely new conversation that makes Emma’s ears ring.

 

It’s taken her four years to begin a tentative relationship with the boy she gave birth to, but ADA Mills forms a bond with Henry within a few minutes and Emma’s jealousy burns a hole in her stomach.

 

After dinner is done and desert is served (blueberry pie sitting untouched in Henry’s plate as he eats from Regina’s, Neal holding onto Emma’s hand as she makes to scold him), Emma has reached her maximum capacity for dealing with ADA Mills. Regina tells Henry the recipe for apple turnovers, and he listens intently as she wipes away the crumbs from the corner of his mouth; Regina’s actions maternal enough to have fire come out of Emma’s nostrils.

 

…

 

It isn’t a surprise to Mary Margaret when Emma carries all the dishes to the kitchen and starts washing it by herself, but it is suspicious that she’s still unhappy even after Regina had announced during desert that David is let off the hook with the investigation completed. Apparently, the money they have been searching for has been found, and neither Killian nor David had been responsible for it.

 

Neal pours everyone a drink, even Henry who holds up a cup of juice, and he toasts to good fortune that Emma is not a part of, not when there’s the sound of harshly handled dishes and muttering that’s too loud to be anything but ramblings of an angry woman. Mary Margaret makes to go to her daughter, but Regina slinks into the kitchen with two glasses of whiskey, and Mary Margaret leans further into David’s side as he smiles down brightly at her.

 

…

 

“I thought you could use a drink,” Regina says, placing one of the glasses on the kitchen counter as she sips from the other casually. It’s good whiskey, and she’s surprised at Neal’s taste considering his table manners.

 

Emma keeps washing dishes and placing them noisily on the dish rack, and Regina picks up a dishtowel to silently wipe the crockery and set it aside. “You don’t have to do that,” Emma says, and it’s the first polite thing Emma has said to her since they’ve first met years ago, Regina drilling the rookie who had still been learning the intricacies of filling out appropriate paperwork. They’ve pretty much hated each other since that case, only Regina’s been more inclined to pulling the pigtails of the girl she likes in the playground. Looking at it now, perhaps there was no need for any of that, not when Emma has a soulmate she never mentions, and a son who is beyond adorable.

 

“It’s the least I can do,” Regina responds, “I’ve barged in on a family dinner after all.”

 

Emma scoffs, setting the last of the forks into the dish rack. She works with ease, wiping down the sink and washing her hands free of soap before reaching for the whiskey she sips at. “Henry didn’t seem to mind.”

 

“He’s an adorable child,” Regina is quick to say, and Emma only raises her eyebrows in agreement. She hasn’t met a mother who won’t gush about their children, but Emma is subdued about Henry, distant when she interacts with him. “You never mentioned him before.” It’s said with a hint of nonchalance, but the curiosity burns in Regina’s eyes as brightly as everything else does.

 

“You’ve never mentioned a soulmate before.”

 

Regina chuckles, abandoning her task of wiping the dishes to lean against the kitchen counter instead. “Because there’s nothing to tell.” And the civility of this conversation in Emma’s kitchen no less is unbelievable on too many levels. Reaching to grab the bottle of apple cider she’s never had a chance to drink, Emma pours a measure into the two empty glasses. She’s feeling too much today, and maybe, with this little conversation, she can finally find herself a friend that’s outside the circle of soulmate and parents.

 

“Maybe that’s a blessing,” she tells Regina, and Regina takes the glass offered to her with a frown.

 

“My soulmate is a happily married man with a three year old son, I don’t think it gets any worse than that.” They’re sharing pieces of themselves, and Emma’s pouring them another glass of apple cider as they stand too close, the family friends Mary Margaret used to talk about now coming to the forefront of Emma’s mind. Was this the same high class friends her mother had lost when news of Emma’s runaway stint had made itself widely known?

 

“Better than having a soulmate you don’t want,” slips out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the concerned look Regina shoots her way has her choke out a laugh. “I mean, there is worse.” Because she’s living the nightmare of holding onto someone acceptable, and Regina has the freedom to choose whoever she wants—someone not sanctioned by destiny, but based on her own free will.

 

“I suppose,” Regina agrees, giving Emma a once over. She drinks the last bit of cider, tongue coming out to swipe along her bottom lip to catch the last few drops. They aren’t supposed to be standing here, making small talk that dips below the belt of appropriate, not with their history of Regina’s lingering gazes and Emma’s stiff postures.

 

This time, when Regina places the glass down on the counter, she doesn’t offer Emma any heated stares or low rasping dismissals, in fact, Regina runs her fingers through her hair and nods at the ground in goodbye instead; a quiet, “I should go,” announcing her departure as her heels click all the way out of Emma’s home, leaving an open wound behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swan Queen Supernova has started, and I know everyone is bombarded with a whole horde of fics, so thank you for clicking on this story and giving it your time. Also on that note, please make sure to leave a kudos and comment on the fics being presented in the supernova challenge - there is a comments contest that is going on, and wonderful prizes that are up for grabs.

It’s a month of the usual routine, her family back to their happy selves and Emma’s dull mood returning with each passing week. She hates this, hates feeling this way with a woman she loathes being the one to bring it all back.

 

Emma feels like she’s eighteen again making plans to run away.

 

It’s a Friday when she unexpectedly goes to her parent’s house, her uniform still on despite her being off the clock. David isn’t home yet, and only Mary Margaret opens the door to greet her after a long day of teaching elementary school.

 

“Emma,” she says, her tone of voice betraying her happy surprise. It’s been years since Emma has just dropped by, and years before since she’s made any effort to talk to her mother alone. “What brings you by?”

 

Mary Margaret flitters about the house, switching on the kettle and packing up her marking assignments. “I uh…” Emma licks her lips, the pain in her chest increasing with the ringing in her ears. The last time she disappointed her mother, things hadn’t ended well, and this time she isn’t sure she can handle something like that again.

 

“Honey, what is it?” The kettle goes off in the distance, but none of them take notice, not when Mary Margaret can feel the heavy energy in the room and reaches out to hold Emma’s hand instead.

 

“I’m not happy,” Emma chokes out. There’s a lump in her throat that won’t go away and her fingers tremble where they rest against her mother’s palm.

 

Mary Margaret looks stricken, a drowning cat without a way to claw up, and she releases Emma’s hand to busy herself with making them both hot coco. Emma takes a seat at the kitchen counter and waits for her mother to draw herself together, to be as maternal as she is with Henry in ways she never was with Emma. The mug of hot coco is placed before Emma, and she can see how her mother keeps her breathing even to avoid an emotional outburst. As much as she wants to live a lie, she can’t help but feel a little more crushed by it every time she wakes up in the morning.

 

“Tell me,” Mary Margaret says, patting Emma’s hand briefly before curling her fingers around her mug.

 

“I don’t love him, I never have—”

 

“But you’re soulmates, you said so yourself.”

 

“I don’t care,” Emma argues, and Mary Margaret’s eyes spring with tears. It feels good to say these things out loud, feels good to open the cupboard and clear out all the cobwebs so that it works again—Mary Margaret on the other hand thinks of the stacks of plates Emma carries, and how they all come crashing down with nothing to salvage. “I’m breaking up with him.”

 

“And Henry?”

 

“We can discuss custody, but I’d rather my son see his mother happy without a soulmate, than miserable with one.”

 

“Is this the way you’ve been feeling? Miserable?” Mary Margaret looks wounded, her lower lip trembling and her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. She can’t fathom why Emma would stay with Neal if he makes her unhappy, and he hasn’t displayed any behaviours that might indicate him being a bad person.

 

Emma turns her mug so that the handle can be grasped with her right hand. She takes a sip of the beverage, hot enough to burn her tongue, and she closes her eyes in pain but doesn’t say anything. “We had this discussion almost a decade ago. I didn’t want to disappoint you again so I… he’s a good man.”

 

“But you don’t love him.”

 

“But I don’t love him,” Emma echoes, and Mary Margaret stands up straight, clearing her throat of whatever emotion might’ve been there.

 

“You’re giving up your soulmate for this—this phase, think about that, think about your son before you make any decisions.” She’s angry, a dark haired goddess in the eyes of her daughter who is just as stubborn as she, but Emma stands up too, and she’s a big enough girl that she’s eye to eye with Mary Margaret.

 

“I am tired,” Emma spits, “of living my life to please you. I don’t give a damn about any soulmate, I don’t give a damn about what you or your friends might think. And I suggest you start to learn a bit of acceptance because you won’t _only_ lose me if you don’t.” When Emma pushes her chair back, hot coco left on the kitchen counter, Mary Margaret gasps out at the similarities between this situation and the one she experienced eight years ago.

 

:::

 

Regina’s been nursing the same drink for twenty minutes, her head in her hands as she searches the bar for a pretty face to make her forget all the energy she’s spent crushing on a woman who has an entire family.

 

“Regina?” Snapping her head up to meet green eyes, Regina huffs at the sight of Emma Nolan of all people sliding in next to her. She’s wearing skin tight jeans and a flannel shirt, boots hooking into the bar of the stool.

 

“Officer Nolan,” Regina greets, gulping down the last bit of her drink before gesturing for another. She’s been having silent battles with Emma since they first met, and Regina’s been growing more attached with every visit she makes to the station, waking past Emma’s desk just to get a rise out of her—if only she knew what she knows now, Regina would have set her sights on someone without the concept of a soulmate no one fights against.

 

Emma gestures to the bartender, and he slides across two identical drinks. Regina lets the alcohol burn its way down her throat, but Emma sips from her glass slowly, eyes never leaving Regina as she asks for another.

 

“Rough day?”

 

“Rough month,” Regina answers back, licking her lips clean of any residual alcohol that might cling there. The last time she had fallen for someone, he had been her equestrian instructor and had kind mannerisms that didn’t match with Regina’s harshness; but she had loved him despite not meeting doing the same thing every day, and he had allowed her to feel whatever she wanted to feel until he left town. Regina doesn’t do long distance relationships, and it wasn’t like Daniel had bothered to try anyways— a few years of heartbreak later and she’s picking up fruits from the local vendor, a man beside her asking for the exact same thing. She had felt compelled to visit the vendor for every single day until she had turned to a man with a lion tattoo and uttered the word _soulmate_. His wife wasn’t very pleased at that revelation, and she never saw him again.

 

“I’m sorry, you know,” Emma begins, her voice small as she tips her glass, letting the richly coloured liquid run to the brim of the cup before tilting it to the other side, giving it the illusion of spilling but holding back at the last second. “I never intended for you to remember your soulmate.”

 

“That’s not—” Regina swallows, her voice cracking. Her mother had always told her that she loves too hard, and three years of pining after Emma has amounted to her wallowing in sorrow. “It’s not _my_ soulmate that’s the problem.” No, Neal is. Neal is… he’s kind and compassionate, and Emma’s parents look at him with stars in their eyes. That isn’t someone to compete with, not even if there isn’t the soulmate brand attached to him.

 

Regina calls for the bartender again, and Emma casts her a worried glance when she tells him to leave the bottle behind. “I think you should slow down,” Emma says, body tense and her drink still sitting barely touched within warm palms.

 

“I wish I did before I fell for someone with a soulmate.” When Regina smiles thinly, scotch glistening on lips, Emma wishes she could feel _that_ pain instead of the one she carries now. She’d do anything to experience the consequences of her own choices that lead her to a bar rather than the suffocation of another’s expectations of her.

 

“Soulmates are absolute bullshit,” Emma bites out, washing away the bitter taste of the truth with a sip of scotch.

 

Beside her, Regina laughs, topping up her glass in a display of solidarity that they’ve never experienced before. They’re much alike, and this time, when Emma looks carefully at Regina, she doesn’t feel uneasy anymore. “Want to do shots?” she asks instead, and Regina raises her eyebrows with a scoff, a challenge in the way her lips pull up into a smirk.

 

…

 

“Uhm… your first boyfriend’s name?”

 

“Daniel,” Regina answers, and downs the shot of vodka that she doesn’t even choke on anymore. “The name of your first kiss?”

 

“Neal,” Emma answers easily, pouring the vodka into Regina’s shot glass and drinking the liquid with too much ease. “Tell me one bad thing you’ve done.”

 

Regina thinks, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she thinks. “I make random trips to the station without any real reason—that’s bad isn’t it?” She’s pouring the vodka into the shared shot glass already, setting the bottle aside with too much force.

 

“No,” Emma slurs, “like really bad, like really, _really_ bad.” Regina huffs, drinking her shot as if she’s answered enough already.

 

“You tell me then,” she orders Emma, pushing the bottle and glass toward her newfound drinking buddy that she still houses a crush on.

 

“I ran away.” Regina’s ears perk up at this, her fingers curling under her chin as she rests her elbow on the sticky bartop. “When I was eighteen, I… I told my mother I was gay. She didn’t—she didn’t take it well, I guess?” Emma gestures wildly, hands running down her face until she props her head up on her palms. “I ran away with no money, no clothes, just… I just wanted to be free.”

 

“And Neal?” Regina questions, her voice a soft whisper.

 

“Soulmates are bullshit,” Emma emphasises. “I told my mother I only liked girls and the universe sends me a man I don’t…” Emma doesn’t finish her sentence, drinking straight from out of the bottle instead.

 

Something blooms within Regina’s drunken heart at the new information she’s been given, and she allows herself to stare at a woman she’s wanted for too long, a woman with a soulmate she doesn’t love. “Soulmates are bullshit,” Regina whispers back, a smile quirking up on her lips until a giggle has turned into a full bellied laugh. Emma laughs with her, leaning into her side until she’s laughing into Regina’s neck, hand on a thigh to steady herself.

 

Regina is drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol, but she can’t help the desire that pools low in her belly when she slides her hands through golden curls, fingers brushing the nape of Emma’s neck as she brings her close enough to kiss. Their noses bump against one another and Emma’s eyes close of their own accord, Regina taking that as her cue to press her lips against the woman’s she has been fond of for far too long now.

 

When Regina kisses her, it starts of as something that feels familiar to when Neal pecks her lips before she leaves to work, but Regina is not Neal, and soon she’s moving her mouth over Emma’s almost frantically, tongue swiping along her bottom lip until Emma feels a tingling at the base of her spine that she’s never felt before. She doesn’t think about the six year relationship she’s been in with her soulmate, or the four year old son at home; Emma doesn’t think about her mother’s disappointed face or Graham’s heartbroken expression—Emma doesn’t _think_ , she doesn’t do anything beside pull Regina closer, tasting scotch and vodka on her tongue until she breaks away for air.

 

“Emma,” Regina breathes, her lipstick smeared and hair a mess, “Em—”

 

Emma doesn’t let Regina reach out to her again, and she manages to fumble around in her pockets to throw a few bills on the bar counter before running out into the cold night air.

 

:::

 

“Emma. I was worried, where were you?”

 

“At a bar.” Emma’s words still slur and it’s dark enough in the house that she stumbles over a pair of Henry’s shoes. Neal rushes to her side to hold her up, and the nausea she’s been holding back chokes her as she pushes her soulmate away. “Not now,” she tells him, tripping toward the bathroom, the toilet lid lifted and Emma expelling the night’s worth of alcohol with guilt that twists in her stomach.

 

The next morning, dressed in a large t-shirt and underwear from the night before, Emma groans against the afternoon light and burrows in deeper into the blankets. She can’t get up and face Neal, not after that kiss, not after the reality of her sexuality that had been revealed to her in the image of Regina Mills and her stupid, alluring words. Being a lesbian was an idea before, something far fetched and distant from her, but with inkling of actual attraction to another woman, it’s not just another concept to fight for, but something that belongs to her as much as her soulmate does—and she’s going to have to chose between them, isn’t she?

 

Except that Emma has already chosen, and she doesn’t need her mother’s approval to live the life she wants.

 

“Emma are you awake?” Closing her eyes against the groan she wants to expel, Emma shifts to sit up, her stomach finally settled and the alcohol gone from her system.

 

“I’m awake.” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Emma runs a hand through her hair and winces at the time displayed on the clock next to the bed. Today is Saturday, and she doubts Mary Margaret will appreciate Emma calling in sick on family dinner a day after their conversation.

 

The bed dips as Neal sits down on the edge, his hand smoothing out the duvet in a nervous habit he’s had since Emma has known him. “Emma,” he starts, voice strained as he tries to find the appropriate words, fingers curling into a fist that bunches up the duvet once more. “I—”

 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Emma cuts in, “but can we talk about this later, please?” She needs a shower and to brush her teeth, not sit here feeling filthy whilst she breaks up with a soulmate she’s supposed to cherish forever.

 

Neal nods, smoothing out the duvet once again. “Yeah sure, we’ll talk later.” That’s the end of their conversation, and Emma relishes in the moments of silence between washing her hair and having Henry clamour up onto her lap as she puts a brush through it to help it dry.

 

Today, she wears her hair straight, Henry having tugged at the ends too many times for her to take the trouble to curl it, and Neal looks on at her with a fondness that holds a hint loss that he’s long since suspected is overdue in his favour. “Now?’ he asks Emma when she’s sipping coffee and eating cereal, Henry clinging onto her as she regales him with tales of motorbikes that drive across the country to find each other. The household seems heavier somehow, and Neal wants this conversation out of the way before he has to face the family he’s managed to integrate himself into with one very powerful word.

 

Emma shifts Henry down onto the floor when he wiggles in her lap, the empty cereal bowl pushed to the side before he can knock it down. “Neal,” Emma breathes, the sound echoing in the open plan kitchen. “I should have called last night,” she opens with, because _actually_ breaking up with her soulmate is a scary thought. If she does this, Emma will be alone, she will essentially alienate everyone from her.

 

“I’m just glad that you’re home safe, Em.”

 

“But?”

 

“But there’s something else that’s bothering you, and I hate that you can’t come to me to help you. We all need a little alone time, but… it isn’t like you to get blind drunk.” Emma swallows at Neal’s words, understanding that this is her opening to tell him everything, to break his heart and live a life that society will rebuke her for. A life without a soulmate? One who had wanted her no less? Scandalous.

 

Emma reaches out to hold Neal’s hand and he tenses under her touch. She hasn’t been known to initiate affection, and this rings too many alarm bells in his head. “I can’t,” she says, “I can’t pretend any longer.”

 

“You don’t have to—you can be yourself with me.” His pleas make it harder, his understanding making her grip tighten around his hand just to have him feel a little bit of pain before she lets go entirely.

 

“Don’t you think this idea of soulmates is a bit…I don’t know, suffocating?”

 

“You think I’m suffocating?” Neal asks, and Emma shakes her head in the negative. This is going so badly, and all the rehearsed speeches she’s thought of over the years slip through her fingers as she’s faced with a man who offers dialogue she hasn’t thought about before.

 

“I can’t be with you anymore, Neal.” Emma manages to grab his hand before he retreats, his face red and lips thinning with anger. “I do love you, just not in the way you want me to.”

 

“How long?” He asks, his voice hardening with each word. Emma hesitates, and he steps closer to her, towering over her where she sits. “How.long?”

 

“Since we met.” Neal wrenches his hand away, silently picking Henry up from the floor, and grabbing his car keys from the bowl by the front door.

 

“Neal!” Emma calls, slipping out from the kitchen stool to run after Neal, her bare feet slapping against the tile as she makes to catch up with him. “Neal, don’t you dare take my son from me!”

 

Neal turns toward her, Emma’s eyes wild and her hair blowing in the wind. “I’m going to your parent’s house. When you’re ready, we can discuss this like a family.” Neal is level headed, calmer than Emma who will lash out at everyone and everything until she hurts herself more in the process. Soulmates are meant to balance each other out, and Emma hates that she can’t appreciate Neal for the blessing he is supposed to be.

 

:::

 

Mary Margaret sits with her hand in David’s and tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted this life for Emma, and now when she thinks this phase of her daughter’s life has passed, it comes back in full force to dislodge the life Emma has built. Neal and Henry are wonderful, and Emma is throwing it all away for an attraction to women? Unbelievable.

 

“Emma,” David says softly, the mediator between an overly emotional Mary Margaret and a rightfully furious Neal. “When did you decide this? I mean—” he takes a breath, “how can you be sure?”

 

Emma fidgets, her eyes downcast as she bounces her knee nervously. She looks like a scolded teenager, not a mother to a child and long term girlfriend to a soulmate. “The same way you knew you liked girls—I just know.” It isn’t good enough, and Emma looks to Neal in apology. “I don’t feel the same with any man as when I… just looking at a woman makes me feel so much more. Please mom,” she reaches for Mary Margaret, “please don’t do this again.”

 

Mary Margaret closes her eyes, drawing strength from Emma’s touch before pulling away entirely. “I don’t know what you want from me, Emma.” Because this is too much to ask, not when Mary Margaret’s friends will laugh and leer, not when they will ask why Emma left a perfectly good soulmate to pursue sapphic desires.

 

When Emma stands, the family stays seated, too upset to speak any further. “I truly am sorry,” Emma tells Neal, and he nods once in acknowledgement, his mouth hidden behind his fist as he refuses to meet her eyes. “Henry?” It’s the only connecting factor that still strings this family together, and Emma is ready to leave behind this situation as soon as possible.

 

“You can have weekends,” Neal tells her, and that’s the end of that discussion. Emma has no grounds to stand on when it comes to arguing for full custody, not when Henry spends most of his time with Neal anyways, and Emma still struggles around her son.

 

“Fine,” Emma agrees, moving toward the living room where Henry sits in front of the television.

 

“Not this weekend,” Mary Margaret’s voice is stern, as if she’s already mentally disowned Emma, and these few minutes where Emma still lingers are only because Mary Margaret allows it.

 

“This isn’t my fault,” Emma snaps back, “if you had only believed me when I first told you, none of this would be happening now.” She’s careful to keep her voice level, Henry clinging to her leg when he senses her in distress. He’s always been an intuitive child, and she hopes this display of bravery when it comes to accepting herself will serve as an inspiration for him. Today however, standing before the three people who place her into a box, she isn’t sure whether fighting for her freedom is worth it when that box has everything she needs to survive. What awaits her outside the four walls of their expectations…Emma doesn’t know.

 

“Maybe it is my fault,” Mary Margaret says back, “that I gave birth to someone who will toss away her soulmate for—for another woman. There must be someone, because you were happy before. Who is it?”

 

Her mother’s words sting, and David’s warning, “Mary Margaret,” does nothing to quell the lump that forms at the back of her throat. Regina’s name is trapped between clenched teeth, and she swallows it down like everything else. “No one,” she says instead, picking Henry up to place on her hip. “And I think Henry will stay with me this weekend. You can see him at pre-school.” Emma wastes no time in explaining herself further, the calls of her name ignored as she walks out into the street with tears in her eyes and her son on her hip.

 

:::

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oh, Emma.” Regina’s voice makes Emma shiver, memories of Friday night making her taste vodka on her lips.

 

“You shouldn’t be calling.”

 

“I know, I just—are you okay?” Regina doesn’t expect anything from her, not even after a kiss and a confession that should make Regina expectant of _something_. Emma considers telling her the truth, but she doesn’t exactly know what she’s feeling, and pinpointing whether or not she’s okay sounds exhausting.

 

“I don’t know,” she goes for instead, and Regina sighs on the other end of the line.

 

“Listen, Emma, I’m—”

 

“You have nothing to apologise for. You’re okay, we’re okay. I’m going to hang up now. Goodbye ADA Mills.” When Emma ends the call on her cell, she doesn’t realise she’s shaking until the phone clatters onto the counter where it slips from her hand. Dealing with Regina now, after she’s just broken up with her boyfriend of six years and probably shattered her mother’s heart too, Emma has to tread lightly.

 

When Monday rolls around and she drops Henry off at pre-school, her interactions with Neal are stiff and frigid, his eyes glaring holes into her as he takes her in from the tight bun to the police issue boots. Emma can see the wheels turning in his head, asking himself how he didn’t see it before, how he couldn’t stereotype his soulmate as a lesbian who dresses exactly like the ones he’s been fed about in the media.

 

Emma expects this from Neal, but she doesn’t expect it from her father who walks on eggshells around her, trying as much as possible to avoid any interaction with his daughter as if Mary Margaret will somehow come to know. When Graham enquires about it, Emma only tells him that she broke up with Neal, and even he seems a little subdued thereafter.

 

…

 

“You’re avoiding me.” Graham is standing again, and the entire station is silent as they watch the exchange. Emma doesn’t need to look up to know that Regina has waltzed her way through the station to her desk just to irritate her on a day that she’s too agitated for friendly banter.

 

“I am,” she answers in a clipped tone, filling in the details of the arrest they had made the last week, her pen flying across the lined page as she continues to ignore Regina.

 

“Can we talk? Please?” It’s probably the first time she’s heard Regina speak with a hint of desperation, and she almost tells Regina to buzz off regardless, but her eyes catch David’s that stare at her from across the station, and she knows she has to get rid of Regina before her father begins to draw conclusions.

 

“I’m going out on a lunch run, do you want anything?” Emma turns to Graham who narrows his eyes in confusion at Regina and Emma, but he shakes his head no as an answer to Emma’s question, and watches as she stomps angrily out of the station, Regina trying to catch up with quick clicks of her heels.

 

“Officer Nolan!” Regina calls, huffing as she practically jogs in six inch heels to catch up to Emma. “Oh for Gods sake slow down!”

 

Emma turns abruptly, her fingers curling into fists and her eyes stormy. She doesn’t want to slow down for anyone, especially not for ADA Mills who must have some sort of vendetta against her, because the woman has essentially started the ruin of Emma’s life. Regina’s name has been kept out of everything, and Emma wonders how she could be so clever as to remain clean in such a messy situation. “I’m going out on a lunch run,” Emma says evenly, “not to walk and talk with you.”

 

Regina growls low in the distance, and she doesn’t seem to care that the few rookies hanging out in the parking lot are watching them. “You’re behaving like a child,” she hisses, fishing around in her purse to produce her car keys. Regina gestures at Emma to follow her, angry steps taking her further into the parking lot past police cruisers and the detective’s cars, past ambulances and a few motorbikes until she comes to her Mercedes that sits like an outsider amongst service vehicles.

 

“Get in!” The shout startles Emma who stands there dumbfounded, Regina’s voice carrying through the parking lot until Emma moves, following Regina’s previous steps to tentatively open the passenger door of the sleek black Mercedes.

 

When Regina notices Emma’s hesitance, she merely tightens her grip on the steering wheel and waits until the blonde sits down next to her, the engine of her car revving to life as she reverses out of the station and drives them to nowhere.

 

…

 

“I don’t appreciate being kidnapped.”

 

“It isn’t a kidnap if you came willingly.”

 

“Did I?” Emma asks, turning in her seat to stare Regina down. She’s angry at so many things, and Regina is the closest target she can take it out on. It also doesn’t help that every time she’s had the urge to scream and shout about everything, Henry has been within earshot, and she refuses to scar her son no matter how difficult she finds spending time with him. Alone, in a car with the woman who had the audacity to kiss her, Emma shakes with rage.

 

“Last Friday,” Regina begins when she parks off in front of a museum, only one school bus and a few cars to keep them company, “I was drunk, you were drunk—I don’t, I didn’t mean—”

 

“What are you _really_ sorry for?” Emma snaps, the leather of the car seat squeaking as she turns. “Are you sorry that you kissed me because it was a mistake—that you don’t really like me at all and you’re a horny drunk, or is it because you kissed someone with a soulmate and that’s worse than murder in this world?”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“ _That is!_ That is what this is all about! You think I don’t know what you’re feeling? You think I want to be the person who kissed someone else after she found her soulmate?!” Emma’s voice takes on a shaky shout, and Regina presses further against her door to keep her distance. “ _You_ , you started something and now I’m questioning my own resolve, I’m questioning everything in this universe because you just _had_ to come into my house, you just _had_ to drink with me and put thoughts into my head!”

 

“I did no such thing!” Regina shouts back, her index finger stabbing into Emma’s chest. “I came into your house because your father asked me to, and I made conversation with you because I wanted to be your friend! You think I want to be the woman who falls for someone with a soulmate?! Do you know what that feels like? To like someone who will never like you back because they have their missing piece, because my soulmate never _wanted_ me, and everyone I ever love _leaves_?!”

 

They’re both breathing heavily and leaning in too close to each other, but Emma won’t be the woman who falls into someone else’s arms so quickly. That kiss might have been three years coming for Regina, but Emma has ignored every sign Regina has sent her way and this is all still new.

 

“You have no idea what pain is until you’re forced to be with a soulmate destiny has chosen for you when you don’t even _want_ them.”

 

Regina grabs Emma’s hand before she can open the car door and run, flashes of their drunken conversation coming to the forefront of her mind. Something about soulmates being bullshit, and Emma running away, and… Emma is a _lesbian_.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Regina chokes out, pulling Emma back into her seat. Starting the car again, because whatever was brewing between them is as ancient history as the museum before them, Regina puts the car into reverse to take them back to the station. She’ll go home and nurse a bottle of tequila and a heartbreak, and Emma can go back to pretending she wants the soulmate she will never love back.

 

“It wasn’t a mistake,” she tells Emma when she drops her off at the station, nothing more to say on the matter as Emma gets out of the car, nothing more than an image in her mirror wearing blue uniform with no lunch in her hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and kudos. I didn't expect this kind of response, but it most certainly has me thinking of dipping into the other SQW prompts just to see what piques my muses's interest. Swan Queen Supernova is still going on, and the fic from there is amazing- please leave kudos and comments on both art and the fic, there is a comments contest going on where prizes are up for grabs.
> 
> This is the last instalment of this fic, and I hope I did the prompt and these characters justice. If there's something that you didn't like or _do_ like, let me know in the comments below.

Mary Margaret tries to lure Emma out of the house with the promise of a chat by a café, and instead Emma meets Neal with a confused expression on his face asking after her mother. This is the third time in the last eight weeks alone, and Emma is sick of it.

 

She sees Neal every Saturday morning for family breakfast instead of family dinner now, the exchange of Henry far easier when it’s done during a time they can all congregate without making specific plans, and then handed back on Monday afternoon when Neal fetches Henry from pre-school instead of Emma. They work, however bitter Neal may be, but it’s a step toward Emma’s freedom that she will not give up for anything.

 

Being blindsided like this is frustrating, and Neal abruptly shoves his chair back to exit the café without a word in Emma’s direction. Since she’s here, she might as well have herself a nice lunch and then head back home to browse through whatever is on Netflix on her one day off.

 

It’s halfway through a club sandwich that Emma pauses, the familiar click of heels enough for her to look up. There, bathed in light, stands ADA Mills wearing too much black, and bags under her eyes that make her look older than she really is. The urge to call out to her gets caught at the back of Emma’s throat, the memory of their last conversation still stinging in places that had Emma weep into the odd hours of the morning for weeks about everything and nothing.

 

 _It wasn’t a mistake_ , still rings in her ears, and Emma’s hand shakes too much when she puts down her sandwich, appetite ruined and fear curling in her belly about something she supposedly fights for. It’s been almost three months since she’s seen Regina, one of her minions coming into the station to enquire about files instead of her, and Emma doesn’t get disturbed as often anymore, Graham harping on about their new dispatch officer, Ruby, instead.

 

It’s alarming how quickly Regina is forgotten, and Emma aches for her presence when she sits alone in the dark, that drunken night of the kiss having her close her eyes to trace her fingers over her lips _. I make excuses to come into the station_ , Regina had said, _I fell for someone with a soulmate_. It had all made sense when she sat down to think about it, and it’s probably that knowledge that has Emma hyperventilate into her club sandwich and wish the woman away.

 

Looking up a few minutes later, Emma’s stomach drops when Regina isn’t anywhere in sight, and not for the first time, she asks herself what she truly wants.

 

:::

 

Neal suggests it one Saturday morning, and Emma regrets ever agreeing to something so humiliating. “Hi, I’m Neal,” Neal introduces himself, and a chorus of people greet him back. “I uh, lost my soulmate,” he says, and Emma winces from beside him, wondering if torturing Emma is his method of healing.

 

He had handed her a pamphlet, _S.S.G_ printed in big obnoxious letters with a time for Wednesday evening when Mary Margaret had offered to babysit Henry. She thinks this is time that they’re taking to revive their relationship, and Emma allows her mother to believe whatever she wants if it means this will help Neal finally let go of her— only she’s sitting in a circle of people who look at him in empathy, and Emma wants the earth to swallow her up whole.

 

“I’m just here to heal, you know? And I hope I’ll be able to do that in the weeks to come.” Everyone claps at the end of Neal’s introduction, and the group leader turns to Emma who looks back her in alarm.

 

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” She asks, and Emma’s mouth opens and closes before she shakes her head _no_. She can’t do this, she can’t voice the fact that she dumped her soulmate out loud, not when it shakes the very foundations of everything she’s been pretending to be okay about in the last few months. This _Soulmate Support Group_ was a bad idea, and she makes to leave just as the group leader starts to speak.

 

“Hi everyone,” she says, and Emma sits back down with her eyes downcast, the baseball cap she wears pulled down over her eyes. “My name is Tamara, and I decided to leave my soulmate.” Emma’s head snaps up at this, her eyes wide and a lump forming in the back of her throat at the representation of her situation. She’s eager to know more, leaning forward in her seat as she bites down on her bottom lip.

 

“His name was Greg, and we had met when we were both in a really bad patch in our lives. Everyday, just as the sun was going up, we would both go down to the docks, no matter the weather, and we would both smoke the same cigarette, the same way, for same amount of time. Until one day, when it was pouring cats and dogs and I couldn’t convince myself to go home, I realised that this man who stood silently next to me everyday was my soulmate.” Tamara smiles at the memory, and Emma watches her as carefully as Neal does, probably the only two people who haven’t heard this story before. “Greg was everything I could ask for—until he wasn’t, and I had to choose between my soulmate and my own safety. This is a choice I live with every day, but I’ve finally reached a place where I’m happy with it.”

 

Emma doesn’t realise there’s tears streaming down her cheeks until Neal hands her his handkerchief, and she swipes beneath her eyes with a delicacy that tries to hide what everyone has already seen. Tamara looks at her with a smile in her eyes and Emma slinks down lower in her seat, keeping to herself as the group ends and Neal mingles around coffee and muffins. They’ve driven together for the first week, and Emma hasn’t got the heart to ask Neal whether they can leave when he strikes up conversation with Tamara, a smile on his face for the first time in months.

 

…

 

“Thank you,” Neal tells on her the drive back to her parents.

 

Emma sits silently in the passenger seat, chewing on her bottom lip as she mulls over Tamara’s short hand version of her soulmate story. Emma had always thought people without soulmates to belong to a group of outcasts, people who were rejected by society for not sticking with someone who is made for them— but she’s met an entire circle of people who seem to live normal lives despite being separated from their soulmates. There’s an entire world outside of her parent’s retold soulmate story and her mother’s barely concealed disgust over Emma’s sexuality.

 

“No,” she tells Neal when they’ve parked outside her parent’s house, her yellow VW bright in the driveway, “thank _you_.”

 

:::

 

“A Soulmate Support Group? What the hell is that?”

 

Emma sighs at Graham’s narrow view of soulmates, but supposes she can’t blame him when he hasn’t met his own yet. “It’s for people who have lost their soulmates.”

 

“So like a widows group, then?” Graham chews on his sandwich, brushing crumbs off from his shirt that falls down onto the newly cleaned squad car. Emma sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, fingers running over her hair to smooth down flyaway curls that escape her bun in the spring humidity.  

 

“Not exactly,” she tells him, taking the sandwich from his hands to bite into it herself, her eyes on the lookout for any trouble as they drive past the toll bridge that’s been notorious for vandalism. “It’s like a group where people tell their stories about losing their soulmate, or leaving them behind, and… it’s just nice to know you’re not alone when you don’t follow the picture perfect version of soulmates that everyone sells, you know?”

 

Graham snatches the last bite of the sandwich from her hands, and she whines when he chews slowly just to aggravate her. It’s almost questionable as to how Emma can bond so easily with Graham who behaves like a child than any other man in her life besides her father. Still, when Graham looks at her with that smug expression and a wiggle of his eyebrows, he doesn’t expect her to be a girlfriend or a mother, the most he wants from her is good dating advice that definitely doesn’t come from experience, and for them to share their lives as professional partners. It’s easy to be with Graham, and Emma feels like more of herself at work than anywhere else recently.

 

“So, is there a support group for people who haven’t found their soulmate yet?” Graham sips on his coffee to hide the blush on his cheeks, but Emma can tell he’s desperate to find someone made specifically for him. There’s nothing Emma can say to pull him off the path of such expectations, and she finds that she wants him to hold onto that magic a little longer.

 

“Maybe,” she answers with, “but you know that if you don’t like them, you can always come to my support group.” When Graham elbows her, Emma can only laugh, the sound trailing through the streets they patrol until they ride back to the station, nothing of significance to report.

 

:::

 

“Whoa, what’s with the face?” It’s Monday and Emma has just left Henry at pre-school, Henry chatting away to her at a mile a minute about all the things he’s going to do today. Emma realises that this specific amount of time she’s spending with him that allows for time apart is doing wonders for their relationship. Already she’s been to the zoo, baked with Henry, bought a new row of standard spices at his bequest, gotten a menu down for three weekends with him in advance, and been told everything about every chef in the world that own motorbikes. To say that Emma is in a good mood would be an understatement, but Graham certainly isn’t.

 

“Every single day since that damned conversation about your widows group—”

 

“Soulmate Support Group,” Emma corrects, raising her hands in surrender when she realises that this isn’t the time.

 

“I found my soulmate.” Emma waits for more, but nothing comes, and Graham looks at her with a stricken expression. “Can I come to your widows group?”

 

Emma wants to laugh, but she holds it down for the sake of her partner, not when she has only half the story in her pocket and the other half burning a curiously sized hole in her brain. “Want to talk about it?” She asks subtly, but Graham shakes his head and returns to his paperwork silently, leaving Emma looking at his uniform clad back with too many questions.

 

…

 

“I got a dog,” Graham says, sitting in the passenger seat this time as Emma drives them out on a call.

 

“That’s nice,” she says distractedly, turning them down a street that looks familiar.

 

“He’s Alsatian, a rescue dog, a nice thick coat of fur. He plays fetch, he can shake hands, and he’s only eaten one shoe of mine so far—so you know, a good boy.” Emma tries to stop her shoulders from shaking with laughter, because it’s hard not to imagine Graham talking about his child if this is the way he speaks about his dog.

 

“Are you going to show me pictures now?” There are already a few police cruisers parked, and Emma’s heart jumps a little in her chest when she sees the museum that Regina and she had argued in front of.

 

“I met my soulmate, Emma,” Graham says seriously, and Emma switches the car off as she parks behind another squad car, urgency in the way she looks at Graham to finish his story quickly. “I was taking Wolfie out for walk, and then… every day, Emma. I would take Wolfie out for a walk in the same park, at the same pace, with this Dalmatian walking next to me, and I felt compelled, you know? Even if I woke up the next morning thinking I didn’t want to take Wolfie out at that specific time, I ended up walking him anyway.”

 

“Firstly— _Wolfie?_ And secondly, that’s the way soulmates work. There isn’t exactly a choice in the meeting, but you have a choice in what comes next, okay?” Emma pats Graham’s thigh as she opens her car door, but Graham grabs her arm just as she’s about to leave. There isn’t any doubt that she wants to hear the full story, but they have a job to do and lingering in the squad car is going to raise a lot of questions.

 

“My soulmate is a redheaded man ten years my senior with a husband.” Emma can’t contain her giggles at that, not with _I’m-so-charming-all-the-girls-love-me_ Graham having someone of the same gender as his soulmate. She laughs into her palm as she tries to contain herself at Graham’s glare, but his face hardens as he exits the car, and Emma has no choice but to school her expression into one of professionalism and take the statement of the museum guard as Graham scopes the area.

 

:::

 

“Officer Humbert,” Regina greets, and Emma’s eyes snap up to ADA Mills as she stands at a desk she hasn’t bothered with since her appointment to this station. Regina ignores Emma, and Emma sits in her seat with her heart pounding away and her throat closing up.

 

The banter with Regina before everything had blown up in her face was something to complain about, but now after Emma has realised her feelings for someone who isn’t her soulmate, she finds herself craving it even if her palms sweat in fear.

 

“ADA Mills,” Graham greets glumly, still giving Emma the silent treatment from the day before, his sulky face only turning once in Emma’s direction as he remains seated even at the sight of his once crush.

 

“You have that case file on the Goldberg Museum?” Well, for this one, Regina can’t send in her minons, not with thousands worth of state property stolen, and the perpetrators still out there somewhere. This case is above Emma’s pay grade too, and she’s glad to see that it’s being handled by people better equipped than them.

 

“Emma has it,” Graham pouts, turning back to his computer screen and ignoring Regina entirely. This whole soulmate business has been hard on him, and Emma’s knee bounces nervously as she tries to think up ways in which to cheer him up. The long suffering sigh from ADA Mills however, gives Emma enough pause to become nervous again, the reluctant click of Regina’s heels having Emma tense where she sits.

 

“Do you have the Goldberg Museum file, Officer Nolan?” And it’s so civil and professional that Emma’s jaw clenches under the tension between them. It stretches like a rubber band when she sifts through the paperwork on her desk, producing the file to hold out to Regina who looks worse than when Emma spotted her at the café. She looks like a striking resemblance to Graham, the empty look in her eyes matching the hollowness of her cheeks. When Regina takes the file from her now, there isn’t any unnecessary touch that Emma is accustomed to, in fact there isn’t much of anything before ADA Mills walks away without any sway in her hips, or attitude in her posture that now slouches.

 

…

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma tells Graham, feeling just as sad he does after her encounter with a woman she’s still afraid to choose.

 

“Why are you sorry?” Graham asks, “it’s not like you laughed at my situation or anything.” And he’s still a child despite it all, and the extra bearclaw she got for him is pushed onto his lap as he drives, the sight of the pastry enough for him to look a little excited until he turns pouty again, chewing on the pastry with a little less malice in Emma’s direction.

 

“Soulmates are bullshit,” Emma says, and the words make her ache when it brings her back to that night in the bar, Regina’s fingers sliding through her hair just before that kiss. “Look, soulmates— just pull over for this, will you?” Because this is important, and that one week of group therapy might’ve taught Emma a thing or two. Graham dutifully pulls over into a parallel parking spot by a supermarket, and Emma takes a few moments to appreciate the ease to which he parks.

 

“Soulmates are bullshit,” Graham says, nudging her in the ribs to continue.

 

“Right—that’s what they are. You’re going to go through life with people telling you the magic of soulmates and how wonderful they are, but it’s not always like that.” Emma turns in her seat to face Graham, a soft smile on her face as she attempts to make sense of whatever Graham is feeling. “Sometimes soulmates are platonic, sometimes soulmates are only going to be in your life for a few months, or years before you have to let them go. Not all soulmates are forever, and sometimes that’s a good thing, it means that you’re growing, and that you can make your own choices based on how you want to live your life.”

 

“Is that why you left Neal?” This is supposed to help Graham, but he looks at her as if she’s said everything to herself, concern on his face as he finally understands how she could have rejected her soulmate after being with him for so long.

 

Emma smiles a close lipped smile at him, looking down where she gathers her strength to tell him the entire truth. They’re partners, and keeping such information from him will probably hurt them both in the long run. “Graham,” she begins, her smile turning into a grimace, “I left Neal because I… I’m gay. And I’ve known since I was eighteen, but then I met my soulmate and, well.” Emma waits for the backlash, because as much as she knows Graham, she doesn’t know his disposition on such matters when it comes down to the people closest to him.

 

“It’s alright. We were both fed the same soulmate crap, I get it.”

 

Emma snaps her head up to look at him, surprise evident on her features. “You’re not…?”

 

“Mad that you also like women?” Emma nods her head at the question. “Why would I be upset if I now have a partner who can actually provide me with advice on how to get a girlfriend?” Emma shoves him playfully, making him laugh as he shoves her back. “So?” he asks, “have you been with any women?”

 

Emma makes a noise of disgust and gestures to the road for Graham to continue with patrol. The question is harmless, but Regina’s name pings at the back of her head, and she’s reminded of the crush Graham had on her. “I only ever kissed a woman, and it was a drunken kiss the day before I left Neal—and no, I didn’t leave him because of that kiss, I just… I decided long before that, but I needed a drink after I spoke to my mother, and things just sort of escalated.”

 

“Do I need to ask or are you going to give me every glorious detail?” When Emma raises her eyebrows at Graham he pouts at her and flutters his eyelashes. “Oh come on, you know what a bad week I’ve had.”

 

“I don’t want to make it worse.”

 

“What could possibly make my week worse?”

 

“It was Regina,” Emma says bluntly, “I kissed Regina.”

 

:::

 

Neal takes her to the Soulmate Support Group again that Wednesday, ten minutes spent inside Emma’s new apartment that she had rented out after that first weekend with Henry. It was easier for Emma to move than Neal, and he’s grateful that she allowed him to keep Henry in a house that he’s familiar with for the week, instead of being the bitch from hell he thought she might turn into. In fact, Emma is pretty much the same, just a little happier, and a little freer.

 

“Ready to go?” Emma asks him, and Neal gestures toward the door in a dramatic bow, Emma’s laughter not as painful as it used to be when it brought back memories of their life together. Now he’s focused on moving past all of this, and he thinks that he could be friends with his ex. If not for their own sakes, then for Henry’s at least.

 

…

 

“Are you going to talk in group today or are you going to glue your ass to the chair like last time?” Emma glares at him but says nothing on the matter, simply staring at the road ahead until they arrive. There’s something bothering her, and Neal remains unsure as to whether he has any right to ask. He’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice Emma exit the car or the fact the he hasn’t switched it off yet.

 

“You coming in or what?” Emma asks, tapping on the window. Neal jumps in his seat, switching off the car and making his way hastily inside, rubbing his arms nervously until he spots Tamara setting up a table for coffee and tea in the far corner. He thinks he might like her, and glancing at Emma who mulls around by the entrance, he makes his way across to the other woman at his ex’s nod.

 

“I can’t believe I’m at a widows group.”

 

“Graham!” Emma exclaims, drawing the attention to them when she turns to greet her partner. After her admission, Graham had grown quiet, and Emma had been worried that their relationship would not survive it, but he had taken the pamphlet of the S.G.G she slid onto his desk after all.

 

“I missed you,” he says, and that’s ridiculous because they’ve only been fighting for two days, speaking between intervals that had seemed a little less tense than usual. When he pulls her in for a bear hug, Emma laughs into his shoulder, keeping him close as he makes no attempt to let go. Neal’s _hey!_ in the background is ignored, and Graham childishly turns them so that they don’t have to look at him whilst they still hug.

 

“I can still see you, you know!” Neal yells, and Emma laughs even harder until Graham releases her.

 

“You’re not mad?” she asks him, and he shakes his head.

 

“I’m not mad,” he confirms, shoving a bearclaw in her hand as apology for being upset in the first place.

 

                                             :::                                             

 

Regina has been busy. There isn’t any way to describe how she throws herself into her work other than that. She doesn’t have the time to visit her parents because she’s _busy_ , she doesn’t have the time to date because she’s _busy_ , and most importantly, Regina doesn’t have the time to think about the heartbreak left behind by Emma Nolan because _she.is.busy._

 

Seeing the woman she might very well love yesterday had been… it had been a shock, and whilst she had pretended to be cool and collected about the entire exchange, Regina had afforded herself the time from her busy schedule to cry in her car until she couldn’t deny it any longer. ADA Regina Mills, the woman with the full package, had fallen in love with Emma Nolan who had a soulmate, and would never deviate from that. It was that realisation that has her drive up to this stupid S.G.G, her hands shaking as she parks her car behind a bright yellow VW that’s a sin to be on the road.

 

Regina is late, but she takes her time to walk up to the doors, exhaustion seeping into her bones as she wonders whether this is the right group for her. Sure, she may have lost her own soulmate due to bad timing, but what about losing the person you love to their soulmate? Is there a group for that?

 

Leaning on the doors which open slightly, Regina breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she listens to the introduction of a man, trying to draw strength from the fact that there are others in that room who can help her.

 

“Hello,” he says, and Regina frowns as she tries to place his accent. “My name is Graham, and this is my first time here.”

 

“Hello Graham,” Regina whispers along with the others, her eyes still closed as she rests against the door, too tired to move, too tired to do anything more than listen.

 

“I uhm, well I met my soulmate last Friday, and it—it was a strange feeling. My partner and I had been talking about this group on Thursday actually, and I was curious about it, not so much now.” Everyone laughs with Graham, and Regina manages to crack a smile. “I decided that I was tired of living without ever meeting my soulmate, and I was tired of living alone. So I did the most sensible thing, and I got myself a dog. His name is Wolfie, he’s a rescue dog—and you know what, I’ll show you all pictures later.”

 

This Graham is a charmer, and the group seems to love him already. Regina wishes she were as casual about losing a soulmate, about losing anyone really—but it’s been months since she lost Emma to her soulmate and years before that since she lost her own. Just days afterwards and Graham is cracking jokes? Regina almost wants to ask what he’s on just so she too can stop feeling so much pain.

 

“One day I took Wolfie out for a walk, and this red haired man was walking his Dalmatian next to me. We smiled at each other and then the path separated, Wolfie and me one way, and him and his Dalmatian the other way. No matter what I did to try and stop myself from walking Wolfie at that specific time, I couldn’t. I had the need, the compulsion to get up, walk Wolfie down the path, smile at this man and then… well, I realised this man is my soulmate, and the spell was broken when I said it out loud.” Graham’s voice takes on a saddened tone, and Regina licks her lips to stop herself from crying out loud in empathy.

 

“I’m not gay,” he says, “but I have a soulmate who is a man, and even if I wanted to explore the option, he’s married to someone else, and I won’t…” Graham takes a breath, and Regina breathes with him for a moment. “I’m sorry, this is all still new, but I’m ready to heal, to make my own choices—and I’m grateful a place like this exists for people like me.” There’s thunderous applause, and Regina take a deep breath to keep her tears at bay. There are people like her out there, and she’s drawn enough strength from Graham’s story to push away from the door.

 

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” Regina hears, but she doesn’t care, not when she’s reaching into her bag for a pack of tissues and her car keys. This is too much for her already, and all she wants to do is cry into her pillow and forget everything that’s made her feel this way.

 

“Kind of hard to beat Graham’s charm, but I’ll try.” And that voice has Regina stop cold. _Emma?_ Regina presses herself to the door again, pushing it open so that she can see Emma standing there in jeans and an oversized knit sweater. She looks happy, beautiful beyond reason—and why is she at a Soulmate Support group if she’s living happily with Neal and Henry?

 

“Hi, my name is Emma.” This time, Regina doesn’t whisper along with the chorus of greeting from the rest of the group, her eyes too busy taking in the way Emma blushes at the attention, of how her hands fidget and then smooth over her thighs. “I lost my soulmate out of my own choice.” Regina pushes the door open a fraction more, disbelieving as to what she’s hearing. “I was eighteen when I found him, we were rebellious at that age, and I had been trying to steal the same car that he was stealing. I didn’t want to steal another car after that, but I had the urge to, and so the next day and the day after that, and after that… we tried to steal the same car pretty much until Neal,” and Emma looks down at the man seated next to her, Regina opening the door fully to stand just out of sight, “said that were soulmates and the spell was broken. I didn’t want to believe it at the time, and it took us another two years until we met again at college. By then I had come to like Neal, and my parents were happy that I had a soulmate who is, up until this day, so good to me. I had struggled with this idea of what soulmates meant with my parents version of how sacred it is, and with society’s view that a soulmate is something that’s meant forever, something that you couldn’t reject no matter what.”

 

Emma laughs as she wipes beneath her eyes, and the door swings shut behind Regina as she steps forward into the light, still unnoticed, but very much a part of this group now. “About four months ago, I had reached a point where I couldn’t lie to myself anymore, and I guess I had always been at that edge, but this woman who I absolutely loathed, she was invited to dinner by my father one day, and she said a few things that had me think. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I would have admitted that destiny doesn’t have to define who I am. I am a lesbian with a male soulmate, and I love my soulmate, but he doesn’t deserve to be stung along anymore. I hope this place can help me heal, because all of you are exceptional people, and no soulmate defines you. I want that. I want to be free of it.”

 

When everyone claps, a sob rips out from Regina’s throat, drowning out her sorrow with joy for Emma. She’s been chasing after a woman with a soulmate, but four months ago Emma had been free, and Regina has been cast aside as nothing more than a woman who Emma loathes that had been invited to dinner once. When the door to the room swings shut this time, everyone turns to the spot with only the ends of a woman’s coat disappearing.

 

:::

 

“So… Regina, huh?”

 

“Regina!” Henry exclaims, excitable as always about the one visit Regina has made, Henry always on about spices and how Emma should write down everything so he doesn’t forget what he’s going to tell his new best friend. Emma hasn’t got the heart to tell him that maybe she had ruined things with Regina forever, and fixing them is going to take some courage Emma doesn’t have.

 

“What about her?” Emma asks Neal, trying to play dumb.

 

“She’s the one who made you realise that you didn’t want us to be together anymore?”

 

“Neal,” Emma breathes, still guilty over everything, but Neal’s easy smile is enough to know that he doesn’t take offence to it anymore, not since he got Tamara’s number last Wednesday and has been texting her back and forth.

 

“What did Regina do?” Mary Margaret asks, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs that Neal dishes into Henry’s plate.

 

Emma swallows thickly as she waits for David to take his seat at the head of the table, Mary Margaret sitting next to him. Emma knows that her mother likes to pretend that this separation between Neal and her is intentional, that they’re just taking a break from everything before resuming their relationship again, but this new piece of information might just shatter her. “Regina is, we’re…”

 

“Mom, Dad,” Neal says seriously, and Emma looks at him with gratitude. She’s drowning here and he’s throwing her a lifeboat, capturing her parent’s attention to pull them into the seriousness of the situation. “Emma and I have officially split for four months now, and I’m thinking of moving on—slowly, but still moving. I think Emma doing the same, and living the life she wants will help the both of us, and I want Henry to see that it’s okay for him to be the person he wants to be. Soulmates shouldn’t be a burden, you know?”

 

Mary Margaret nods her head slowly, looking from between Neal and Emma as if she’s trying to assess a situation that isn’t there. “What about Regina?” She asks fearfully, still holding onto that thread.

 

Emma clears her throat and sits up straighter in her chair. She likes Regina, she wants to be with her because every time she thinks about ADA Mills, there’s butterflies in her stomach and she’s healed enough to get excited about the possibility of something more between them. “I like Regina,” she manages to say, and her mother opens her mouth to dispute the meaning behind it, but Emma is quick to cut in. “I want to date Regina, and I’m letting you both know about it in advance.”

 

“Regina is…?”

 

“Regina likes me back, yes, and maybe, soon, we could be a couple.” How much of that is a lie, and how much is the truth, Emma doesn’t know. What she wants to achieve is some form of acceptance, but her parents sit silently in their chairs, jaws tense but outnumbered in this regard. Well, tolerance is better than nothing, and Emma smiles at Neal in relief.

 

:::

 

“Mills, someone is here to see you.”

 

Regina groans into her hands, the words of this case all blurring together as she tries too hard to concentrate on something that has long since stopped making sense. “Not now,” she growls out, but her assistant has already left, taking her groan as an answer instead.

 

“ADA Mills,” a familiar voice greets, and Regina snaps her head up to look at Emma who now stands in front of her desk, their roles reversed.

 

“Officer Nolan.”

 

Emma’s lip twitches and she shifts from foot to foot, but after a moments silence, she seems to gather herself up, staring down at Regina with a look of determination that’s far more intense than the glaring looks of irritation Regina usually receives from her.

 

“I want to talk,” Emma finally says, and Regina pushes her chair back to stand to her full height, vibrating with pure rage.

 

“We _are_ talking,” she spits, and Emma recoils. Regina doesn’t want to hurt Emma, but she’s been hurting for months now and Emma has been living the life of dreams since then.

 

“Look, I came here to have a civilised conversation. I know we left things on a bad note, and I truly am sorry about the things I said and the way I behaved. It wasn’t… the timing wasn’t right.”

 

“And now it is?” Regina asks, stepping out from behind her desk. “Now is a good time to thank me for being the one who pushed you over the edge? To make you realise that you didn’t want to be shackled to your soulmate?”

 

Regina’s words are bitter, and Emma frowns at the familiar words that strike a cord in her memories. “That’s not—”

 

“ _That is!_ ” Regina hisses, and they’re running down the same path as when they were parked in front of that museum that’s now robbed of too many things. Emma can see the way Regina shakes, and had she any courage left in her system, Emma might’ve held the woman just to steady her.

 

“You think you can come in here, throw some pretty words at me so that I, what? Ease your conscience, help along your healing from the choices that you have made?” Regina pokes Emma in the chest and Emma swats at her hand uselessly. “How can you come in here and pretend to make nice when I’m the woman you _loathe?_ ”

 

It’s then that the memory comes back, and Emma gasps out at the realisation that Regina had been listening to her story at the Soulmate Support Group. “This is what happens when you take things out of context!” Emma shouts back, because she’s done being rolled over by what others think of her. “You used to make me feel uneasy, I used to get this feeling in the pit of my stomach when you used to walk into the station—and I hated it, I hated you, but after we spoke…” Emma licks her lips and steps back, putting a little more distance between them so that she can think about her next words carefully.

 

“Having a soulmate, being with them for so long, it’s impossible to jump from that relationship into something else. You deserve better than to be rebound, you deserve to be chosen not because you came into my life and made me see clearly, but because I’ve got the freedom to come here after months of sorting through everything, and tell you,” Emma reaches for Regina, her fingers brushing against Regina’s, “that I’m here, and that I see you, and… I choose you.”

 

Regina’s bottom lip trembles as she listens, her fingers intertwining with Emma’s on instinct. She doesn’t want to give in so easily, doesn’t want Emma to win, but her heart is splitting in two and there’s too much emotion flowing through her veins to say anything hurtful anymore. “You could have told me you were interested a long time ago.”

 

“I would have been lying,” Emma says honestly, moving closer to Regina.

 

“What about Neal, and Henry, and your parents? What about—”

 

“Regina,” Emma interrupts, her heart in her throat, “do you not want this?”

 

“Of course I want this!” Regina snaps, getting angry again. “I have wanted you since you messed up that paperwork the first time we worked on a case together, and don’t you dare take this away from me again!”

 

Emma stands there with a smile creeping up on her lips, nervousness ebbing away to make room for affection that she hasn’t allowed until recently. She’d be lying if she knows what to do next, but Regina cups her cheeks and looks at her as if she has the universe in her eyes, and whatever lingering doubt that remains in Emma’s system is dissolved.

 

“I choose you too,” Regina whispers, resting her forehead against Emma’s as she sags with the weight of it all. Emma brings her hands up to cradle Regina’s back, holding her close until the beating of her heart slows down into a contented rhythm.

 

“Do we date now?” Emma asks softly, and Regina laughs against her neck until there are fingers in Emma’s hair pulling her down for a kiss, one that starts off as a peck, and then becomes something else entirely.

 

When they pull back for air, Regina is still smiling and Emma thinks it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. “Now, we do whatever we want to do,” Regina whispers back, and Emma kisses Regina once more as the weight of the word _soulmates_ lifts off her back entirely, leaving her with a choice she’s more than happy to make in the favour of an infuriating woman who knows how to kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this fic and would like to support my writing, you can read how to [here](https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=2250548541927530&id=100009172184250)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think with a comment or come chat to me [@_sunofthemoon](https://twitter.com/_sunofthemoon) on twitter


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